Souvenir
by Laeta
Summary: Day 7 in the graveshiftcsi's 12 days of Christmas, formerly days 1, 4. Sequel to Sex In The Desert. Alternate title: Snapshots. It took only a small, special moment to correct the past. [GC]
1. Christmas Eve Afternoon

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.  
Thanks to Angie, Manda, and Ann for the storyline read through and encouragement.  
Thanks to you wackos on graveshiftcsi. You're all incredible. Now if only we could get those lurkers to speak up more often.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Sequel to "Sex In The Desert".

***** ***** ***** 

Title: Souvenir (Snapshot)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Part 1: Christmas Eve - Afternoon

It was picture perfect; if he preferred snow, the effect would have been mystical. As it was, Grissom enjoyed the warm weather that prevented the formation of snow. He could see the cold puffs of his breath in the typical cold desert night in the dim light from the moon and stars above as well as the lights cast by the streetlamps and the brightly lit house. In his hand was a bag of gifts for Lindsey, Catherine, and a few others.

Not for the first time, he wondered at the wisdom of spending the night amongst others. Like a crab, he wanted to hide in his shell until the season of lights was over. However, a promise was a promise; he rang the doorbell.

Before he could register the opening of the door, he was assaulted by a spry little girl among peals of shrieks. The girl's mother looked relieved as Grissom instinctively dropped the bag of gifts in favor of the little girl. He shifted his hold to plant a kiss on her cheek while she returned with the warmth of a hug before she was lifted out of his arms by her mother. Grissom gave a grin as both girls registered his brimming bag of gifts; Lindsey left in a flurry of excitement to add them to the ever-growing pile under the tree. This left a quiet moment to be filled by Catherine and Grissom. A flash went off somewhere as he leaned in to place a similar kiss on Catherine's cheek.

Both turned their heads but Catherine spoke low in his ear, "Ignore the camera. It's been going off all day; I've given up trying to find the damn thing."

A healthy grin found its way to Grissom's face; it took quite a bit of skill to hide anything from Catherine. Though, he had a feeling he knew who the culprit was.

He stepped fully into the house so Catherine could close the door and a wave of festive happiness greeted him. The living room was presided by an amazing tree laden with reflective ornaments. There was silver and gold tinsel that offset the dark green of the leaves and the light that reflected off everything was the luminescent white of the moon. The rest of the house, within his field of vision, had garlands and other seasonal decorations in some unknown prearranged appointment. The overall effect was stunning.

The excitement of new gifts having faded and spying Grissom's entrance to the living room, Lindsey hurried to commandeer his attention. With her were half a dozen other children whose faces bespoke of the magic in the atmosphere. The other adults were nowhere to be seen, probably hidden away to watch a sports game or another; the rest were in the kitchen exercising their culinary prowess. Catherine gave the reluctant man a slight push in her daughter's direction, who grasped his hand to pull him across the room.

Catherine watched as Grissom was pushed unceremoniously into a chair near the tree and Lindsey climbed into his lap. She grinned as a look of pure panic flitted across his eyes; numerous pairs of hopeful eyes rooted him to the spot. Finally, giving in, Grissom dug into the recesses of his memory for all the holiday, seasonal, and mythical stories that he knew. The camera went off again.

  


A few hours later, a friend pulled Catherine aside to mention the adorable scene in the living room. A natural-born storyteller was Grissom as he held the children captivated with his tales. Watching the group with her friend, she saw how the children had trusted him almost immediately; they lay practically draped all over the man. His rich, low voice was beginning to become raspy; constant use tends to do that.

Moments later, she walked to the comfortably ensconced man and pressed a cool glass of warmed brandy into his hands. Grateful swallows followed in a rapid succession as he silently asked to be rescued from the children. She took pity and joined Grissom on the couch as the children quickly and easily persuaded Catherine to tell a story. With Lindsey sitting between her and Grissom and the rest of the children in varied positions around them, they passed another hour as Catherine reminisced about the snow that none of the children had ever seen.

The game finished in the other room and cooking temporarily at a stand-still, the other adults paused to wonder at the absence of their children. Not a single one was underfoot or running rampant throughout the house. Joining the friend who first noticed the storytelling session in the living room, they watched in amazement as Catherine's well-known boss entertained the children with yet another story that was coupled with magic tricks. By itself, well-behaved children were a miraculous event, but it was together with an obviously relaxed Grissom. To complete the scene was their hostess, who, at the moment, was laughing with the carefree attitude of a cloud and happiness shining brightly in her eyes. They watched as Grissom's eyes slid toward Catherine and he smiled almost involuntarily.

It was at this instance that Grissom won the approval of Catherine's closest friends and family. Of course, everybody in Las Vegas had heard of Grissom's reputation, and, through Catherine, they knew of his intelligence and passion for the truth. However, no one could forget the vague rumors surrounding the man, but they felt that they could learn to ignore the rumors and accept the man for himself based upon one reason only: he made Catherine happy.

Leaving Catherine and Grissom alone, everybody left to ensure that Christmas Eve dinner would be perfect. In the kitchen, out of earshot of the two friends, they knew that this perfect evening only needed one thing.

Part 2: Christmas Eve - Evening

***** ***** *****  
© RK 30.Nov.2002


	2. Christmas Eve Evening

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.  
Thanks to Angie, Manda, and Ann for the storyline read through and encouragement.  
Thanks to you wackos on graveshiftcsi. You're all incredible. Now if only we could get those lurkers to speak up more often.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Sequel to "Sex In The Desert".

***** ***** ***** 

Title: Souvenir (Snapshot)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Part 2: Christmas Eve - Evening

With over ten people working the rest of the evening to persuade Grissom to carve the turkey, it was difficult for him to avoid the job. In the kitchen, he had quietly confessed a certain ineptitude to Catherine; she guaranteed her assistance.

When the time came, with the help of one particular golden-haired little girl, he found himself suddenly facing a gorgeously hued turkey. The table was laid with reflecting crystals and polished silverware. It was heaped with something for everybody; the mood set by scattered candles, the lit chandelier, and the laughing friends and family surrounding the table.

Catherine appeared at his side and Lindsey left it. She carefully set the recently sharpened knife and fork within his reach and placed a comforting hand on his left shoulder. The other hand braced on the table for balance, she leaned in to speak softly into his ear so he could hear her easily.

Instilled with her words of encouragement, he picked up the carving tools and made the first cut. Predictably, the camera flash went off.

  


Dinner was an easy affair as there were no lulls in the conversation around the heaping table. The children were eager to show-off their newly acquired tales; the parents were in the mood to humor their children. Laughter rang frequent while the wine flowed freely. In the midst of it all was Grissom who had quickly become the children's favorite and gained the honorable status of uncle following Lindsey's moniker for him. The adults found an interesting and very well informed man as they conversed with him. Before anybody knew it, the children had left the table and it was almost time for the customary pre-Christmas morning gift opening.

Leaving the children to speculate on the gifts under the magnificent tree, all the remaining table occupants helped to clear the table and clean the kitchen. Those who had cooked before drifted to join the enthusiastic children while those who had spent the afternoon in the company of the television opted to wash dishes.

Since everybody had descended to Catherine's house, she was graciously ejected from the kitchen and Grissom's presence was not required until later, both found themselves on the back patio for a quiet moment before the storm. They leaned against the railing in the cold night as they gazed to the stars shining brightly above.

"Thank you for inviting me, Catherine."

"Pleasure. Though I'm sure that there were moments you wanted to kill me."

"In retrospect, not anymore."

"Being here tonight really means a lot to Lindsey, Gil."

"I know. How about to you?"

"You already know the answer to that."

  


True enough, he did. One secret night in their far or near past, they had stood exactly like this and their world had changed. That night at a ranch in Montana, they gained the courage to open their souls to one another and freely shared every experience, emotion, and thought with only the falling snow to bear witness. It faithfully promised to keep that night undiscovered as he and Catherine revisited their pasts in an effort to discover their futures. Nowadays, Grissom hated snow because it reminded him of this special night where everything changed but ended up staying exactly the same.

As they stood in the night with the sky colored pink overhead while snow fell beyond the reach of the porch, each stood remembering their lost loved ones. For Grissom, death had become almost commonplace in the way that he equated it with loneliness and emptiness. Catherine, on the other hand, was still a stranger to death - at that point. She was adapted already to loneliness but the emptiness associated with grief was yet unknown. And so, for the first time in his life, Grissom found himself in a position to give comfort and aid instead of being the one taking it away as he usually was apt to do in his work.

At some point, Grissom realized that words were not necessary if one could show the same emotion in a heartfelt gesture. This revelation brought both friends into a desperate clasp that went deeper than their physical bodies; it was as though their souls had joined hands and became bridges for the other. On any other night, this would have been frightening but, then and there, it was a comfortable sensation. Even after their need for physical reassurance passed, they remained in each other's arms. It was safety and ease that kept them there.

To this day, neither knew who initiated the gentle swaying. All either registered was that they were suddenly dancing to the ancient music of the nine Muses. However, it was Catherine who suddenly pulled him out from the protective covering of the porch. Snow crunched merrily under their feet as she twirled with her face tilted to the sky as Grissom held her grounded. They laughed unreservedly with unexpected pleasure for long moments until Catherine caught her arms around Grissom's neck and gazed fully into his eyes.

Awareness snapped quickly into their eyes, but they moved to draw the moment out. Grissom could still remember the weight of her against his body and the feel of her breath against his skin. The kiss was sweet and gentle and held no demands.

By mutual consent, Grissom stepped away from Catherine though they both wished he would stay. Unfortunately, Catherine was still mourning and Grissom had demons yet to fight. However, before dawn arrived to end their interlude, they promised someday to resume this night since what they had was too special to ignore.

  


"Do you ever think about that night, Cath?"

"Every day that passes I think about it more."

"I dream about it. Sometimes - I wish - sometimes, I want to go back to that night."

"Would you change anything?"

"Yes - the way we left everything there."

Mirroring her actions from long ago, she looked full into his eyes, which were full of lost chances and regrets, and noticed that, like that far from forgotten night, they reflected the starlight. He stepped away from the railing and held out his hands. Involuntarily, she leaned toward him. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her willing body toward his. Eyes closed, she could feel the warmth of his body contrasting sharply to the night and the puffs of his breaths against her skin created shivers that the cold could not.

"Dance with me, Catherine Willows."

  


At the back door stood a silent eight-year old girl. She did not bother trying to hide herself; it was not necessary. Her body was passive, but her face told a completely different story. It appeared that she had just connected a story that Catherine had told the children earlier. Realizing that the characters in the story had been her mother and Uncle Grissom, Lindsey carefully raised the camera to her eye and captured the moment for the rest of eternity.

Part 3: Christmas Day

***** ***** *****  
© RK 04.Dec.2002


	3. Christmas Day

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.  
Thanks to Angie, Manda, and Ann for the storyline read through and encouragement.  
Thanks to you wackos on graveshiftcsi. You're all incredible. Now if only we could get those lurkers to speak up more often.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Sequel to "Sex In The Desert".

***** ***** ***** 

Title: Souvenir (Snapshot)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Part 3: Christmas Day

A familiar mother and daughter lounged across the benches in front of the open doors of the church. He slowed his walk as he approached them. The little girl looked a little tired, but that was understandable, as she stood on the bench for the hug Grissom bestowed unthinkingly upon her.

"She wanted to come." Without preamble, Catherine got right to the point.

Surprise expressed itself over Grissom's face; he could not prevent it. Lindsey slipped her hand into his as she patiently waited for her mother to explain their presence at the church.

"When you weren't there for the mass presents opening, she wanted to know. To thank you for your gift and for spending last night with us; she was too excited and tired to do it last night. I told her you had other plans; she wouldn't leave it at that so I said you would be at the morning Mass here. She's never been to one; I couldn't say no, so here we are."

Looking down into Lindsey's wide, innocent eyes with her hand tucked in trust in his hand, he smiled.

"I'm glad that you're here; I'd like to share this with you."

It amazed Catherine that he was willing to share such an essential part of himself. Faith was so important to him that choosing to give it up had been such a hard decision. The fact that he now had a reason to believe again meant that he had finally won over the demons who incessantly haunted him.

For his part, Mass was the most beautiful thing he had experienced in a long time and a large part of it was due to the women at his side.

  


Back home, Grissom surveyed the damage to Catherine's living room from the doorway. It looked typical, like any other average family's living room on Christmas morning. Catherine was behind him, helping Lindsey out of the Mary Jane's she had worn to the church. She joined Grissom in his appraisal of the messy room while her daughter ran to her room for a gift to show off to Grissom.

"It looks like it was fun."

No more could be said as both adults turned to acknowledge Lindsey as she arrived breathlessly to where they stood. Suddenly, she quieted and her gaze rose to somewhere above their heads.

Tugging her mother down to her level, she whispered, "Mommy, you're underneath the mistletoe."

From Lindsey's vantage point as she gazed up towards Grissom, the little sprig of leaves was clearly seen, though it was missed by both trained CSIs. Grissom's face turned upwards as he followed Catherine's line of sight.

With the grace only known in children, Lindsey crept away as her mother's attention became wholly fixed on Grissom.

Catherine stood and quietly stated, "Mistletoe."

"So it is."

Following tradition, Grissom reached out to gently tip Catherine's face upwards. Both closed their eyes as they were transported to their secret night from ages long gone. This time, there were no demons bent on hindering or grief lurking in the shadows and, instead of being chaste, the kiss was possessive and all-consuming. Gasping for breathe, they wrenched apart only to find they had entangled themselves and somehow managed to find the sofa. Grinning, Grissom reached to gently tilt her face so he could control the next kiss; somewhere, he found the restraint to draw it out to explore and savor the taste of her mouth.

A gentle hand stopped him and a whispered name brought reality back to him. Lindsey was in the other room, barely twenty feet away from them. Chagrined, Grissom started to leave the warm vicinity next to Catherine, but persistent arms kept him still.

"Stay."

"Cath, I really shouldn't."

"No, you promised. Next chance we got, we'd do things right."

"What about Lindsey?"

"Everything will take care of itself. Gil, this was meant to happen now." She placed a finger across his lips as he inhaled to gather air to argue. "Check on my baby for me, please. I'm going to make sure the house is locked."

  


Lindsey was already fast asleep as he crept silently into her room. She lay curled on her side with her hand wrapped around an eight-by-eleven picture frame. Tenderly brushing her hair aside and tucking the covers more securely around the precious girl, Grissom's eye caught a pile of photographs scattered on the floor. Settling himself on the floor with his back leaning against the bed, he saw pictures featuring him and Catherine. It was obvious that they had been taken throughout the previous night; by their poses, he could see that neither knew they were being photographed.

As he flipped slowly through the pictures, he became aware of a warm presence that was quickly seducing his attention. A hand slipped into his field of vision as he valiantly tried to temper the urge to drag Catherine into her bedroom.

"What are these?"

"I think we were on candid camera last night."

She gazed thoughtfully at the picture of Grissom with the children surrounding him as he told them stories by the Christmas tree. She traced his image on the glossy paper.

"I like this one of you, Gil."

"Somehow I'm sure that if I try to take it away, you'll find the negatives and order an even bigger picture of it. I rather prefer the three-by-five version."

"You can bank on that." She turned to observe her daughter, who chose that moment to reveal the picture in the frame that she was hugging close to her heart.

Catherine's hushed voiced held awe as she called Grissom's attention to the picture, "Gil, look."

Now, it was his turn to fix the whole of his attention on a picture. It was their dance on the back porch forever memorialized. Understanding dawned; sometimes it takes the child of a divorce to understand the actions of another.

"She's wanted a souvenir."

Reaching down, he extracted the picture frame from Lindsey's hold and placed it in a spot where it would be the first thing she would see when she awoke. Turning, he led a delicately confused Catherine out of the room, down the hall, into her room, and shut the door. He persuaded her to sit next to him on the bed as he began to remove both their shoes.

"Souvenir?"

"We use the word souvenir as a physical object meant to remind us of an event or place. The word actually is the French word meaning 'to remember'. What better way to remember something than -"

"- Than the actual thing itself."

"A souvenir meant to be the memory. She's an incredible girl, Cath."

"I wish I thought of that myself."

"I doubt that she even realized what she was doing, but I'd really prefer giving you better souvenirs." The teasing tone of his voice was accompanied by the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"In which sense? The ephemeral or the physical?"

"Either. Both. Whatever you prefer. I love you, Catherine, forever."

Keeping promises had always been a strong suit for Grissom; he never broke one in the past. Behind closed doors, he proved yet again that a promise was a promise and he would not break a single one - in the present or in the future.

FIN

***** ***** *****  
© RK 04.Dec.2002


End file.
